Adam, Eve And The Serpent Poem by Manas Mukherjee

Of wild nature art thou born, lest, of clay, melt;
God's hand thy breast tears,
And as thou unto deep dreams plunge

Steals thy bone, that beneath the skin dwelt;
And in thy semblance cheers,
Makes He thine woman.

Thy pair, she befriends him fresh and young;
Does the serpent's bidding that merrily dealt
The fruit of evil for fears

Thou, O fool, grasp strength wrong,
As lose His bliss to cry a lone orphan;
The Lord, on his earth, letting doom fall,

And to this dark morn art thou cursed O man
With thy beloved and all!